


No winter lasts forever

by sammywolfdamon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blankets, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Cold Weather, Consensual Non-Consent, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Sex, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Derek, Resistance, Top Derek, Why Did I Write This?, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 23:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17928551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammywolfdamon/pseuds/sammywolfdamon
Summary: "You're freezing cold and soaking wet." Derek wrapped the big flannel throw from the couch around Stiles' shoulders, pulling it tight enough to double as a straight jacket."Shouldn't I..." The words 'get naked' were there, but better not spoken. Getting naked was the last thing he'd come here to do.





	No winter lasts forever

**Author's Note:**

> Basically an angsty little one-shot set in a winter storm. Inspired by the snow storm ravaging the Pacific Northwest right now. 
> 
>  
> 
> Interpret the relationship as you will.

"Derek, I'm FINE."

"You're freezing cold and soaking wet." Derek wrapped the big flannel throw from the couch around Stiles' shoulders, pulling it tight enough to double as a straight jacket.

"Shouldn't I..." The words 'get naked' were there, but better not spoken. Getting naked was the last thing he'd come here to do.

"Warm first, dry later," Derek succinctly ordered, and though Stiles could have argued, he suffered being shuffled into the couch.

His jeans were clammy against his skin as he sat down, and they squished unpleasantly on the cushions. He might have been ruining the couch, but Derek didn't care. He disappeared for a second and returned with half the blankets in the house overflowing his arms. The thick comforter from the guest room was warm as only blankets at Derek's house could be. Mid-winter, and you could walk around naked in the bedrooms. He may not know how to get cool during the summer, but he sure did know a thing about warming up.

Derek tucked the blanket around Stiles, sinking it deep into the couch cushions, pinning Stiles down. The skin on his arms started to tingle and hurt, remembering what it was like to be warm and alive. Stiles clenched and unclenched his fists, encouraging blood flow. Derek piled another one on top, wrapping it around Stiles' shoulders and close to his neck like a hood. His hands, large and warm, slipped off the fleece, brushing Stiles's cheeks. His own skin was so cold, the warm touch burned.

"God, you're like ice," Derek whispered. He leaned forward, settling onto Stiles' lap as their foreheads bumped. Stiles recoiled from the touch--too much, too close, too warm--but Derek's hands slipped under the blanket-hood and held his head steady. "Need to get you warm." Derek's words were hot breaths against Stiles' lips.

"Derek, I--" /didn't come here for this./ But of course he did. He always came back, and it always ended the same way. Slowly, Stiles lifted his face those few centimeters and brushed their mouths together.

The shivering started, every nerve coming to life and yelling at Stiles that he was too cold, that he'd waited too long in the snow. But Derek was right there, his body covering Stiles, his heat leeching through the blankets. Stiles opened his mouth and gasped at the wave of heat across his tongue.

The words of denial welled up in his throat. He wanted--needed, HAD TO--say "no," but it stuck, choking him. Derek was so gently stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, his fingers tracing warm lines over his ears... It came out finally as a sob, a hiccup of pain. Stiles' eyes burned as Derek brushed soft kisses over the thin skin, his tongue gently lapping away the tears mixed with melted snow.

One last hot, long kiss on his mouth, and then Derek was leaning back, looking down into Stiles' face. Stiles shivered, trapped, his arms held tight under the blankets. "Why'd you come back, Stiles?" His brown eyes looked pained as he studied Stiles' face, but his fingers were still gentle and warm against his cheeks, petting.

The shivering was subsiding, settling into an all-over burn as his skin slowly warmed. His soaked clothes slid unpleasantly against his skin as he shifted under the blankets, under Derek's body. He couldn't get free. He couldn't escape those dark eyes. "I--" he croaked. He had to clear his throat, thick from emotion. "I had to come. We... I..."

Derek shifted, settling more comfortable on Stiles' body. His weight moved from his knees until he was actually laying on top of Stiles' body. He stretched, rubbing against the blankets and striking heat in spots across Stiles' chest and thighs.

"We can't do this anymore." The words left his mouth, but there was no emotion behind it. Stiles' voice sounded dead to his own ears.

Derek nodded, his eyes gazing at Stiles' lips. "So you say." He leaned forward again, rubbing the wet clothes against Stiles' chest. His dark gaze filled Stiles' vision until he was nearly cross-eyed with it. "You came all this way to tell me that?"

Stiles could feel the heat rolling off Derek's body. His skin prickled with it, like sitting too close to a campfire. "We can't. I can't. Please, Derek." His lips were so close, he could taste Derek's every breath.

"Please Derek what?"

He repeated 'I can't' over and over in his head until finally his lips moved--"I can't"--but every movement brushed skin against skin, sparking pleasure and sensation.

"You can't what?" Derek teased, and just the barest touch of his tongue sent a different shiver down Stiles' skin.

"Please, Derek, no," but Stiles was already moving, his words becoming a muffled tumble of groans against that hot, demanding mouth.

When Derek finally stopped, they were both gasping. Derek moved back enough to peel away the layers of blankets from Stiles’ chest. They opened easy to his hands, just barely freeing Stiles' arms from the soft flannel prison. Stiles didn't dare move as Derek began to work on the buttons of his shirt.

The wet fabric clung together, making the small buttons slippery. A chill crept across his damp skin as the first button opened, then the second. By the third he was shivering, his numbed fingers itching to reach out to Derek and pull that hot, dry body against his. The soaked fabric squelched as Derek pulled it out from under his belt and finished the buttons. He laid it open like the blankets, enough to make his chest bare but not enough to free him completely from the flannel cocoon.

Stiles' skin rose up in gooseflesh, his nipples so hard it was almost painful. The cold was biting; though he knew the room was several degrees warmer than he was normally used to, his internal  
thermometer was completely off balance. Derek lifted one hand, just letting it rest a half-inch from Stiles' skin. Even though his fingers were wet from the shirt, Stiles could still feel how hot Derek was. He shamelessly arched his back, stretching up to make contact.

In response, Derek petted him. His hand glided smoothly down his chest, leaving a wide trail of heat behind it. Stiles groaned, his jaw hurting as he gritted his teeth. Derek's mouth curled, one corner lifting in a self-pleased smirk. Using both hands, he started at Stiles' stomach and rubbed up, spreading out his fingers and his warmth across as much flesh as he could reach.

Stiles arched, writhed, and nearly knocked Derek off his lap.

God, it was too easy--always much too easy to give in and just LET him. Derek gave a sexy kind of growl, a low noise that Stiles couldn't imagine trying to copy, then he stripped off his t-shirt in a single motion and pressed his bared chest against Stiles'. All thought left Stiles' head as he nearly screamed with the shock of it. Derek hissed in his ear as he tensed, then settled. "God, you're cold..."

The chill dampness of his chest made every movement that much more tantalizing as Derek writhed against him, hands everywhere. His mouth was a welcome wet heat against his neck. Derek's hands slid down the sides of Stiles' chest, short nails turned in to scrape against cool skin. The pain flared up bright and searing, skin coming to hungry life. Stiles twisted, first away and then into the rough touch, his hips thrusting up again, his arms fighting the sodden prison of thick blankets and twisted-up shirt.

A low cry escaped his throat, and Derek almost purred into his skin, his rough wet tongue stroking his adam's apple until Stiles made the sound again, and again. Derek's fingers slid on the belt as he tried to unbuckle it. He gave a growl, and wiped his hands on the dry portion of the blankets before he tried again. He pulled tight, squeezing the leather around Stiles' waist, before finally letting it loosen. The buckle clanked dully as he flicked it open, his fingers instantly prying at the wet denim.

The fabric stuck to Stiles' skin, fighting as Derek jerked and twisted it. His hands slipped inside, and even wet his warm skin was so much better than the jeans. Stiles moved his hips, almost crawling out of the denim as Derek moved it down his hips. His hands were right there, skittering across his damp skin, wrapping hot and tight around his half-hard erection--perhaps the only place he wasn't frozen. Derek stroked him, wriggling around in the blankets until he was almost buried inside with him. Stiles couldn't move his legs at all anymore, but even the unpleasant sensation of the wet denim chafing his skin was lost in the incredible heat and pleasure of Derek's touch.

Derek lifted his head from Stiles' neck, mouthing his way up his jaw and across his chin until he was once against sucking on Stiles' bottom lip. "You still want me to stop?" Derek asked into his mouth. His hands stilled, his body stopped its tantalizing glide.

Stiles made an intelligible noise, unsure even himself what he said.

Derek chuckled, and stroked hard once, twice. "Thought so." His thumb circled the head of Stiles' penis, teasing. "Tell me you want it." His other hand slid under Stiles' butt, squeezing and rubbing.

Stiles' mouth opened under Derek's, but nothing came out. He gasped, his lips trying to capture Derek's, trying to coax him to finish it. Derek moved his face just far enough away to tease. Just enough to make him work for it.

"Tell me."

Stiles fell back against the couch, his skin crawling at the feel of his wet shirt cool against his back. "I--"

Derek squeezed his erection again, his hand slipping back further, just grazing that sensitive skin. Derek's eyes were black and heavy-lidded as he looked down at Stiles. He leaned close enough to nip at his lips before pulling back out of Stiles's reach. "Tell. Me."

Derek stroked him again, squeezing and twisting and moving so slow, so good against him. "Oh! I want this!" Stiles moaned out, his words rushed together. "Want...so bad... please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please...Derek!" Stiles cut off a scream as Derek pressed two fingers against his hole.

"Please Derek what?" Derek copied his needy moan, rubbing his cheek against Stiles's in a quick cat-like move.

"Please...oh, make me come, please please please."

Derek moved his mouth close enough to lick across Stiles' lips. "Good boy," he praised, like Stiles was some kind of pet. In response, Derek stroked him harder, faster, his fingers giving just enough pressure against his hole to make Stiles tense, torn between wanting to move and not wanting to. Stiles panted, and then suddenly he was coming, spurting into Derek's hand, body trembling under Derek's body.

Derek sealed his mouth around Stiles', sucking down his cries, stroking him almost painfully as he drew out the sensations, the pleasure that came so fast and hard it hurt. He whimpered as it soon grew too painful, his skin horribly sensitive in the wake of his orgasm. Derek continued stroking him a few more times, teeth nipping at Stiles' lips until he turned his face away.

Derek let go long enough to reach up and grab Stiles' chin, his fingers sticky against his skin. He  
slowly but forcibly turned Stiles' face to kiss him lightly, almost chastely, on the lips. He stroked sticky fingers down his cheek. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Derek asked. His dark eyes were vulnerable again, soft and warm.

Stiles shook his head as much as he could within Derek's grip. "No." The word was rough, dry, almost scraping his throat as he spoke it.

Derek kissed him again, searing the inside of his mouth with his tongue. He pressed one last time with his fingers before he slid his hand from under Stiles' ass. The kiss trailed off until Derek was slipping off Stiles' lap, coming to stand wobbly on his feet. "C'mon. Let's get to bed. Gotta get you warm."

Stiles could feel the chill of the room creep back in, his skin bare and cool without Derek's furnace of a body to warm him. His clothes felt like weights around his arms and legs, held on with rough rope that chafed his skin.

"We can't do this anymore, Derek."

Stiles didn't realize he spoke until the words were out, his own voice unmistakable despite how strained and tired he sounded.

Derek shrugged his shoulders. "Fine. Whatever. The roads won't be clear until morning. Sleep on the couch if you want." He adjusted his clothes, rubbing against the prominent bulge in his pants. "Or, you know, there's a nice, soft, warm bed just waiting for you." His eyes burned hot with desire.

Stiles could feel the wetness that had soaked through the cushions beneath him. Even as he gathered the helpless tangle of blankets, he could feel the shivers begin to creep into his muscles.

Derek waited a moment longer, then shrugged again. "Your choice." He turned around and walked up the stairs. Distantly, Stiles heard the door click shut.

He tried to keep his resolve. Stiles shuffled out of his soaked jeans and shirt and tried to cuddle up into the dry part of the couch. The blankets were wet in patches, and it was hard to find just the dry spots to huddle under. Somewhere under the house, the heater clicked on with a shuddery wheeze. Even as he could feel the warm breath of the heated air breeze past his face, Stiles knew it was just a small part of the furnace-heat in Derek's bedroom. He always kept it so warm in there, you could sleep naked under the sheets.

Slowly, Stiles slipped out from under the blankets. His bare feet sank into the carpet; his toes dug in, searching out that small bit of warmth the dry fibers could give them. He wrapped his arms around his bare chest and padded his way down the hall and to the stairs. He tried not to make any noise, but when he opened the door, Derek's head lifted off the pillow. Dark eyes glittered in the shadows.

Wordlessly, Derek lifted the blankets, shifting back into the warm cave they created.

Stiles lingered at the door, feeling the coolness of the hallway on his back, the flush of warm air from the bedroom vents against his chest. His foot shuffled forward just one step, and that was all it took for his resolve to completely disintegrate. In a rush he was across the room and burrowing into the blankets, pressing his face into Derek's neck as Derek's arms and blankets wrapped around him.

"I gotcha, Stiles," Derek said softly, kissing the side of his head.

Stiles took in a shuddering breath and just held on tighter. He was never going to be able to let go.

Never.

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments always appreciated :) hope you enjoyed


End file.
